


Elements

by EllieCee



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Multi, i'll keep adding as it goes on, possibly some recreational drug use, there's smoking cigarettes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3232826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieCee/pseuds/EllieCee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn Malik is the Avatar.</p>
<p>Which would be all right, if he didn't find out right in the middle of a world tour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elements

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know. I'm obsessed with AtLA/LoK and I like Zayn a lot so this happened. I'll try to continue, but no promises.
> 
> I'll add warnings as needed. Try to enjoy the lovechild of sugar, 3 AM, and my brain.

* * *

_He was 15 and was thinking about the pack of unopened cigarettes in his drawer. He cursed that prick, Greg Pratchett, who’d nicked his lighter a few days ago. He really wanted a smoke now; his head was all kinds of scrambled after cramming for a maths test. But goddamned Greg Pratchett and his goddamned sticky hands._

_He pulled his covers over him and tried to figure out where his mum hid the matches (emergency matches, she’d said). His duvet smelled like dog and he mentally told himself to stop letting Boris sleep there._

_God he just really wanted a smoke. Maybe he could rub two sticks together like he was in the bloody Boy Scouts. He laughed at the thought._

_If there was some way…_

_At first he’d thought it was his mobile lighting up – but there were three reasons it possibly couldn’t have been: 1. His mobile light was blue, not bright red. 2. His mobile was sitting on his nightstand, not under his doggy-smelling covers with him. 3. No matter how overheated his mobile got, it was never this hot._

_He thought he’d faint when he realized what was sitting at the palms of his hands._

_A single flame._

_He screamed. He’d never screamed like that ever in his life (maybe when Waliyha had dragged him on that rollercoaster, but he wouldn’t admit to it)._

_The flame grew bigger and he was blinded by a bright, hot light. He pushed himself back, but all he became was a tangled mass of limbs as he lost balance and fell to the floor in a thud, wrapped in that godawful smelling duvet._

_The flame was gone. And his arse hurt._

_He heard Boris bark up a storm downstairs, then the pitter patter of his feet charging up the stairs. It was followed by footsteps. The sounds grew louder until he heard his door open._

_His mum stood in the doorway, panic splashed across her face._

_“What just happened here?” she asked, eyes wide, probably staring at him on the floor, tangled in his duvet._

_He quickly glanced at his palms again. There was no flame._

_He cleared his throat. “N-nothin’, I thought I saw something,” he replied._

_His mum shook her head._

_“It better be nothin’,” she said before closing his door._

* * *

 

Teeth are brushed.

Hair is done.

Earpiece is in.

Niall is tuning his guitar.

Louis is on his phone.

Caroline is fixing something on Liam’s shirt.

Harry is gargling some weird-smelling herbal mix.

His Aunt Zileh just burst through the backstage door.

_Wait._

His Aunt Zileh just burst through the bloody backstage door. All eyes are on her, and the stage manager begins screaming frantically into her headset.

“Excuse me ma’am, staff and crew only!” a security person yells, behind his Aunt Zileh’s trail.

The other boys quickly turn their heads, and before Zayn can react or utter his aunt’s name, he’s swallowed by an orchestra of clamoring voices. He feels his aunt’s hand grip tightly around his wrist, and he tries to figure out if something had gone wrong at home.

_Is mum okay? Is dad okay? Doniya? Waliyha? Safaa?_

“Zayn I need to talk to you,” she says with haste.

The security person walks up to them and gives a suspicious look to his aunt.

“I k-know her, she’s my aunt. It’s okay,” Zayn says, attempting a weak smile. The security person nods and walks off. Much to Zayn’s relief, so does everyone who was watching.

“Did something happen?” Zayn asks, turning back to his aunt. A heavy sinking feeling set in his stomach. His aunt’s face is curled up into something he’d only seen when his grandfather had died.

He thinks he’s going to be sick.

His aunt takes a deep breath and puts both her hands on his shoulder. Her eyes are bloodshot, her make-up smudged. Zayn’s already preparing for the end of the world.

“Someone is coming for you,” she whispers. The urgency in her eyes makes Zayn’s stomach sink lower. It’s not what he’d expected her to say, but it’s definitely not what he’d wanted to hear.

“What do you mean?” he asked. He feels his muscles coiling up. He knows the boys’ eyes are on them.

Aunt Zileh takes his face in her hands. They remind him of his mum’s a bit, and he feels a pang in his chest. He wants his mum now.

“There’s something about you that we’ve never told you,” she says, talking fast, “we figured we’d never have to, but now something’s happened and you’re needed – “

Zayn tries to follow her words, but they all swirl in his head. He really wants to call his mum.

“What do you mean? Who’s after me?” he asks. His cheeks feel warm, and he’s fighting tears now. He doesn’t want to cry. He doesn’t cry for anyone to see.

The door burst open again, and the security person is back, escorting two elderly men in suits.

“Do you know them too Mr. Malik?” the security person huffs.

“I…uh…,” Zayn says glancing back and forth from the two men, his aunt, and the boys – faces sprawled with confusion.

“That’s them,” his Aunt says, “The White Lotus.”


End file.
